Keep Talking, Sam
by kelhome
Summary: Even when they try to relax, things go wrong. But, Dean does finally get to hear some of what Sam is thinking, so that's something.


This was the third day of this stupid hunt, and Dean, who _never _bailed on a job, was about ready to call it. They'd been doing stakeout duty around the clock and hadn't seen more than four cars total approach the building. No demons, no gathering of dark souls plotting the apocalypse's next nightmare.

Just, him and Sam in the hot _black _car, roasting in the hot Florida sun, drinking hot sodas. Dean checked the time, 6:30 pm. _How can it be this hot at dinnertime? I hate this state. _They had all the windows down, hoping to catch the barest breeze. So far, no luck there, either. Sam used his discarded long-sleeved shirt to wipe a fresh layer of sweat off his face before he took another look through the binoculars. Dean rolled his eyes. This was stupid. Seeing nothing from close up still made it nothing.

Sam sighed. "Maybe we misunderstood the address?"

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket. He punched some buttons and held the phone up in the air between them. Through the tinny speakers they heard Rufus say, "Get to Ochomoke, Florida. 610 Beamus Street, that's b-e-a-m-u-s. There's supposed to be a gathering of demons in the next day or two, coming together to plan something nasty. Call me when they show up. I've got other business to take care of, so don't call me with random bullshit. Just call when they show, and try to find out what they're planning." The line cut out. Dean pointed to the street sign visible at the corner. It clearly read 'Beamus Street.' Then he pointed at the address tacked to the side of the industrial park building they were parked in front of. '610.'

Sam sighed. "Yeah."

"Dude, this is a bust. Rufus won't answer his phone. We've sat here like potatoes in a frickin' oven for three days. Nothing is going down here. Let's just call it, and get the hell out." He cleared his throat. "Okay?"

Normally, he would have just started the car and taken charge, but, they were trying out this whole 'equal partners' thing, and he was trying not to let it chafe his ass. Sam glanced at him, smiled. "Thanks for that."

Dean didn't bother pretending not to know what he was talking about. "So? Are we agreed?"

Sam sighed, took another look at the building. "Yeah. Let's go."

Dean started the car. "Thank God."

There was only one road through Ochomoke, Route 101, a four-lane that ran parallel to the beach. It was clogged on a good day, since it held all the shops, liquor stores, gas stations, fast food and groceries for the entire town. The rest of Ochomoke was taken up by rows of small houses and the beach. The demons had probably stayed away once they heard about the heat and the gridlock traffic. As they pulled onto 101, the car couldn't even get all the way into its lane, before they had to stop. Traffic was at a standstill, again, and this time it went in both directions. Dean let out an aggrieved sigh. "What the _hell?! _ What is it with this town and traffic? Is Ocho-whatever the new Miami Beach? We're miles from anything else and cars just all flock here? Jesus…"

Sam nodded toward a banner that stretched over the street. "Fish fry."

Dean glanced up, "What?"

"They're having their 107th annual Fish Fry. That's why there're so many people here."

Dean stomach rumbled. "I could go for some damn fish. I'm starving."

Sam pointed laconically at a storefront window. "There's cold beer, too." A sign was painted over the window of a large liquor store 'No beer here, it's all at the beach!'

They finally made it out onto the road, and there were cars parked all along both sides. This was going to take a while. Dean let out another monumentally put out sigh.

Sam was still looking out the window. "We could just park, check out it out."

Dean glanced at him. "You mean, go to the Ochomoke Annual Fish Fry? Like, park, walk around, mingle with the townies?"

Sam glanced back. "Yeah."

Dean considered. Then, saw a large SUV pull out of a parking spot right in front of them. That seemed to make the decision for him. He pulled in as the SUV pulled out. "Okay, let's see how the good folk of Ochomoke fry up some fish."

********

Dean never let himself lose track of how much he had to drink. His life had never been set up to let him get carelessly drunk. But, tonight, with limitless plates of delicious fried fish, a pleasant breeze finally cooling him off, and _free _beer (which, no wonder there were so many cars here…) he kind of let himself just go with the flow. He was starting to knock on the door of 'a little too much' and was undecided which way to let that cookie crumble. On the one hand, it was kind of nice to let down the damn _vigilance_ for five seconds. But, on the other, they were Winchesters, and effed-up crap happened to them all the time. And, this was _Florida_.

Sam, the Mennonite, was sipping water, so maybe he could have another couple of beers, and he'd let Sam take care of the lifeguard duties tonight. After all, they were just sitting around, talking to the locals. Both he and Sam were down to t-shirts and jeans, which, yeah, no weapons but the knife in his boot, but still. It was kinda nice, truth be told. Dean was sitting at a bonfire with five young ladies, and they were all tan, toned and flirting, in an innocent-fun kind of way. Sam was a little ways away, playing chess with some oldtimers, sipping his water, and looking around every two minutes or so. _That's my Sammy, scanning for danger…_At that thought, Dean reconsidered the amount of beer he'd had to drink. Whenever the phrase 'my Sammy' went through his head, it was definitely time to sober up.

Which was why, when the jockstrap boyfriends of two of the girls sitting around his campfire showed up, Dean's danger meter didn't hum right away. They seemed pretty deep in beer-town themselves. They marched with clear belligerence toward Dean's campfire. He glanced over to see if Sam was picking up on this, and saw him already heading for their little group. When he got close, Jockstrap #1 bellowed, "Lila, you are such a god-damned slut!"

Dean sighed, put down his beer, got to his feet. _Why does this bad Lifetime movie shit have to happen on my watch?_ "Okay, guys, settle down. Nobody's being a slut. We're just talking, here. Why don't you get a beer---"

And then Sam was in front of him, catching the thrown fist of jockstrap #1. Dean was staring at the back of Sam's grey t-shirt. _Okay, definitely did not see that coming. No more beer for me. _Sam spoke quietly, but with that controlled menace that so many people found intimidating. Dean tried not to smirk. "Why don't you boys go on home and sleep it off. We don't need to have trouble here, tonight."

Jockstrap #2 shoved at Sam, who didn't even lose his balance. He didn't get the hint, however, and just tried to shove harder. Sam still didn't budge, just looked at him. #2 huffed, "Why don't you mind your own damn business, Gigantor?"

Sam sighed. "I'd really like to do that. In fact, that's exactly what I _was _doing. But, then you had to go and be a douchebag and take a swing at my brother, so, here I am."

Dean glanced down at the girls, all still sitting around the fire. The one Jockstrap had called a slut, Lila, stood up. "Ok, Billy, that's enough." She spoke too softly for it to sound anything but meek, and Dean got the feeling this was maybe a common occurrence between these two.

Billy, of course, paid her no mind, acted like she hadn't even spoken. "Why don't you get out of my face, Gigantor, and let me deal with my girl?" He was spoiling for a fight, and, the way things looked, he was going to get one.

Sam sucked in a breath to reply, when Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder, and put himself more beside him than behind him. "You really want to take us on, Billy? Cause, you know, we can do that." He let that sink in, let Billy and his friend get a look at the lack of intimidation on the Winchester's faces. "Or, you and your friend can go home, sleep it off, and apologize in the morning for calling this nice girl a 'slut.' Up to you."

Billy looked from Sam to him and back again. He didn't know what his eyes were showing, couldn't really summon the Dean Winchester Look of Menace since he was still kinda looped. But the guys weren't looking at him. No, Sam was the one they were afraid of. Dean could only guess at the dead-eyed look Sam was capable of giving at this point. He could have glanced over to see for himself, but, he sort of didn't want that picture in his mind. Some small part of him still held on to that sweet-faced little kid who used to make him peanut butter sandwiches and bring him drawings from school.

Billy and his friend looked pissed, but shuffled away. Lila exchanged looks with her friends after they'd gone. Then, she looked back at Dean and Sam. "Um, that usually doesn't end like that. Thanks, you guys. Billy is pretty cool when he's not drinking, but, yeah, he hangs with his football buddies and that's what comes looking for me."

Dean looked around at the girls. They couldn't be more than 19 or 20, any of them. "Girls, there's a better class of guy than that, believe me. You can do better, Lila."

She hrumphed. "Not in Ochomoke, I can't." She picked up her soda can. "Come on, girls. Time to go. Thanks again, guys. Sorry they bothered you."

Sam stepped back, let them all file past. "It was no trouble."

She gave a him half smile, then it grew wider when she looked at Dean. "Sure you're not sticking around?"

Dean spread his hands in a 'what can you do?' gesture. "Gotta hit the road first thing."

She shrugged, stepped up to him, kissed his cheek. "Thanks for defending my honor."

He smiled down at her. "No problem. Drive safe, now."

And things would have ended there. It would have been a pretty pleasant end to a sucky couple of days, and he and Sam would have found a room at a seaside motel, and taken off in the morning. But, they were Winchesters, and when did anything ever end easy, ever end _normally _for them?

A little while later, they were walking back to the car. They'd just hit the sidewalk, and Dean felt that _tingle_ go up his spine. The one he always trusted. He stopped walking, put his hand on Sam's arm to stop him. Sam glanced over at him. Dean looked around, didn't see anyone following them, no one lying in wait in front of them.

Sam picked up on his tension, began scanning around them, too. He spoke quietly, "You see anything?"

Dean didn't answer, tried to listen past the wind and the breaking of the waves. There it came, muffled-against-the-sand footsteps, running. Sam heard it, too. He spun in the same direction as Dean. Billy and his friend were running toward them across the beach, and Billy was holding his arm out. _Gun, _Dean thought. And then, a few things happened at once, Sam pushed him just as he felt a burn in his side, saw the flash and heard the bang.

********

Sam saw the gun at the same time as Dean, pushed him one second too late, just a heartbeat after the gun went off. _Damn it. _His jolt of fear had made him one second too late. How many times had Dad told him, 'Don't think, Sam. Just _react.'_ He heard Dean's soft gasp of pain and dropped to his knees beside him. He whipped his t-shirt off, wanted to put it under Dean's head on the concrete sidewalk. Wadded it up instead, pressed it against the wound in Dean's side. Sam saw the two guys, now running away. He had a strong desire to chase them, do some damage and make sure they paid for this, but, Dean was laying here hurt, and he shut his mind to the idiot bastards who had done this.

He pulled out his phone to call 911. He had written down the closest hospital, as he did every time they came to a new town for a hunt, but he couldn't remember where it was, and he needed paramedics _now. _Dean's breathing was fast, but not labored. He was still conscious, if in pain, and his pulse was rapid, but not thready or weak. "It's not too bad, Dean, ambulance is coming…"

"Oh, man, no hospital…"

Sam huffed out a short laugh. "Sorry, gunshot to the body, no fooling around. We're going." There, sirens coming closer. Sam felt a measure of relief. "Help's here, just keep breathing, we'll get you fixed up in no time."

Dean sighed, accepted the hospital thing with good grace. Just as Sam saw the flashing lights coming down the block, Dean's mouth hitched in to a one-sided smile. "Can't wait to see what they make of the Enochian sigils…"

Sam wasn't really aware he was stroking his hand over Dean's hair. He was signaling the paramedics and not wanting to relinquish Dean at the same time. He leaned down, spoke softly, "I'll tell them you were a guinea pig for a medical laser study or something…Just keep breathing and try to relax."

Dean shifted, grunted. "Hurts…"

Sam shifted, moved away just enough to give the paramedics room. Stayed kneeling by Dean's head, kept his hand resting gently on his hair. The paramedics starting doing their thing, bulky bandages replaced Sam's t-shirt, i.v. went in, antibiotics and saline, probably. Sam kept his eyes on what they were doing, but leaned down to keep talking to Dean. "The good stuff is on the way, man. It's gonna be okay…" To the paramedics, a black guy and a dark-haired woman, he asked, "Can you give him something for the pain?"

The guy nodded. "We'll take care of him. Just step back. I think the police are going to want to talk to you."

Sam looked up. He hadn't even noticed the two patrol cars that pulled up. _Shit. _He'd forgotten about this part of it.

********

Dean's mind was fuzzy when he started to wake up. His mouth tasted like chloroform, and was dry as dust. He remembered being poked and prodded on the sidewalk, which, _ow. _And then, the pain was less as he went rolling around on a gurney. Someone had put a mask over his mouth and nose, told him he had to go into surgery, and was there anyone here with him? He'd mumbled, "M'brother…" And, the next thing he'd known, he was here, lying on a bed, aware of steady beeping and that floaty feeling he associated with high-test pain meds. He didn't open his eyes, just kind of enjoyed the drift.

Beside him, Sam was talking softly. It took away the notch of unease he had awakened with. And, as Dean became a little more aware, he realized something else. Sam was holding his hand. Actually, seriously, _holding his hand._ He was rubbing his fingers absently over Dean's knuckles, and tossing it occasionally between his two giant paws, but, you couldn't call it anything else but holding his hand. Dean didn't open his eyes. _This was too good. _He wanted to wait for the most embarrassing moment possible to tell Sam he was awake, and, by the way, did Sam want to stop holding his hand? But, as he listened for his opportunity to make Sam stammer and blush over his childish hand-holding, he started listening to what Sam was actually saying.

"…So, I don't know, I saw you standing there with Bobby, and I just, I was…I knew you'd hate me, you know? All I'd wanted, for so many months, was just to have you back, and then, there you were. Giving me that little smile, like everything was going to be good again, and I just couldn't do it. I couldn't tell you what I had done…I just sort stood there, wishing none of it had happened, you know? Like, if I'd known you would somehow find a way back, I wouldn't have done…well, the one thing you had asked me all along never to do. God, I could barely look you in the eye. I was so ashamed…I should have just told you. Should have just sputtered out, 'Hey, Dean. Glad you're alive, and out of hell…but, while you were suffering the torments of the pit, I was drinking demon blood to try to get strong enough to get revenge on Lillith. So, hey, welcome back, dude.'" He gave a sad, sorry-assed laugh. "I just, I messed it all up. And now, I can't seem to make anything okay. I feel like…" He stopped, sighed.

Dean's heart clutched. He tried to stay as still as possible. He waited for Sam to continue. _Come on, man. Tell me the rest, Sammy._

Sam brought Dean's hand up, rested it against his chin. "God. It just all got away from me, man. One minute, I was running around with Ruby, didn't care what happened to me, as long as I got Lillith. The next minute, there you are, assuming I was the same guy you left behind. And, I couldn't tell you any of it. I didn't think you'd really want to hear how great I thought it was to _finally _be stronger than demons…and, honestly? It did feel good. But, still, I knew it was wrong. I knew you'd hate it if you knew. Knew you'd hate _me _if you knew. And I was right about that, huh?"

Sam stopped talking. Dean couldn't help answering him in his own head. _I never hated you, Sam. I was scared for you. But, I could never---_

Sam continued. "You know, I did stop. For a couple of months after you came back. I told her to leave me alone…and I felt like, I could breathe again. I could face you, you know? But, then, Ruby kept coming back. And, she'd tell me about some poor possessed bastard that I could _help. _'If you don't use your mojo, Sam, the host is going to die. Come on, just this last one…' So I would. And, the host would live, and it all felt okay. But, then I started to lose strength. I couldn't pull the demons anymore, not without practically bursting a blood vessel in my brain. And, I told myself, 'I have this demon blood in me anyway. Why not get stronger, use it for good?' And I really believed it. I really did. So, I started to drink again…But, I should have gotten a clue when I couldn't look at you, anymore." He dropped Dean's hand back to the bed, held it a moment longer, let go. "When, I knew you were starting to figure it out, I was afraid, all the time. Because, no matter how many demons I was sending back to hell, I knew how you'd feel about it. And, it was really the same as I felt about it, when I let myself. I knew it was all kinds of fucked up…but, I don't know, I couldn't stop. I couldn't tell you any of it, and I just couldn't stop. I---"

A nurse came in and Sam moved back. Dean nearly shouted at her to _get out_. He was finally getting the _real_ Sam, and Dean knew, once he woke up, Sam would zip it all back up. This was Dean's chance to hear what Sam had really been thinking for all those months, and Nurse Betty had to come in and interrupt? God, his luck _sucked_. Dean could hear her moving around the room, talking to Sam. "He wake up at all? Open his eyes or say anything?"

Sam answered quietly, sounded concerned. "No, should he have? Is he doing okay?"

And just that, that earnest concern from Sam the Stoic, made Dean want to lay here for another week, hopeful he'd hear it again.

The nurse tsked. "Well, he should be coming around soon, his vitals are good, and the anesthesia should be leaving his system…so, soon."

Sam's chair scraped against the floor as he stood up. "I need to go get some coffee. Are you going to be here for a few minutes? I don't want him waking up alone."

He heard the nurse's tone soften. 'Of course, I can stay for a few minutes. Just 'til you get back."

Sam was already moving out of the room. "Thank you. I'll be, like, two seconds…"

When he was gone, she leaned down, stroked his chest lightly. "You awake in there, Mr. Tyler?"

Dean's eyes popped open fast enough to startle her. She backed up a step, then smiled. "Well, I guess you are. Your brother will be happy to see you. He's been here all night…"

Dean tried to talk, found his throat was too dry. The nurse got him some water with a straw, held it up to his mouth. "Listen," he rasped out. "I need you to do me a _huge _favor."

Her eyebrow went up, and he liked her better for the innuendo she was implying. He tried to speak as quickly as his fuzzy head would let him. "My brother and me, we've had some difficulties over the last little while. I haven't been able to get him to talk to me about any of it." _Not that I've tried…but still. _"He thinks I'm unconscious and he's spilling stuff I've wanted to know for a long time. I just need more time. Can you tell him I'm going to be out for awhile? Not that I'm dying, or anything, just…Maybe tell him that talking to me will bring me around, or something? I just---"

He stopped, because Sam was standing outside his room. He could hear him on the phone with Bobby. Dean gave one more pleading look to the nurse, then closed his eyes, tried to make his mouth go slack. He heard the nurse put the cup and straw down on the bedside table. Sam opened the door slightly, his voice got louder. "…it all went fine, Bobby. He's still out of it, but should be coming around soon. Yeah. I'll tell him. Bye." He pushed all the way into the room. Dean smelled coffee. Sam asked quietly, "Any change?"

There was a pause, and the nurse sighed. "Afraid not. From his vital signs, it appears he's still unconscious. We don't like them to linger, um, you know, to stay out too long. Sometimes it helps if you talk to them, reassures them you're here, that it's okay to wake up." Dean almost rolled his eyes. He was grateful she was trying but, come on, _okay to wake up? _Was Sam going to see through this?

But, no, he heard the scrape of the chair as Sam pulled it a little closer. "Okay. Yeah. Thanks." The nurse quietly left the room. Sam sighed, sipped his coffee. "Well, I don't know what I'm supposed to tell you. 'Wake up lazy jerk' seems kind of cold." Dean schooled himself not to smirk. Sam continued. "I'd tell you I'm here, but I don't know that that would make you want to wake up. Might make you want to stay in there a little longer, instead…"

_Oh, Sammy, we are definitely going to talk about these self-esteem issues you seem to have developed. _ Of course, what had Sam had to go on? Dean had locked him in the panic room, basically disowned him for not ditching Ruby, told him, a la Dad, to never come back. He'd left Sam that voice mail right before Sam opened the Lucifer hole, telling him he regretted most of that stuff, but Sam had never mentioned it. Maybe he hadn't gotten it? Dean was finding it pretty illuminating, to have Sam talk to him when he thought he couldn't hear him. Why they couldn't have this conversation while both _conscious, _well, that was a real question, wasn't it? _Come on, Sam, keep going…_

Dean heard Sam take a sip of his coffee, and then, as if he'd heard Dean's request, starting talking again. "I miss you, Dean. I do. I know it sounds stupid, I mean, we ride around together 24/7 and it's not like we're not ten feet from each other most of the time." He sighed, sounded kind of forlorn. "But, you know, I miss the way we used to be together, the way you used to be with me…like I was a good person. Like I was still your little brother, and not…you know. I always bitched about it, when you tried to get all protective and stuff, but, I kind of liked it. It made me feel safe, you know? In a world full of the kind of evil shit that we had to deal with all the time, you could always do that. Make me feel safe. When everything else was crazy, I had you, we had, just, we were _connected_, you know? I knew you were looking out for me. And I tried to look out for you. I miss that. I guess we're kind of far down the pike to be thinking about all that. But, it was nice when I was just Sam…And not, Sam Winchester – Demon Boy Apocalypse Bringer."

Staying still was harder than Dean thought it'd be. He felt a bubble of emotion trying to get out of his chest and pushed it back. He probably wouldn't get a chance like this again, not from Sam. The kid was so closed up and guilty, he barely told Dean if he was hungry or sick. He --- Dean suddenly felt Sam leaning over him. He could hear him breathing, practically feel his body heat. And then, closer, as he put a hand on Dean's arm, "Dean, hey, you in there?"

Dean snuffled around a bit, but no _way _was he opening up his eyes. He settled, stayed still. Sam hovered, waited. Dean had to really reach for a zen state, because every instinct was telling him to open his eyes. It's what Sam would expect. It was what they always did. As soon as an invalid Winchester was conscious, the goal was to figure out a way to get moving. But, Dean was tired, and Sam was talking, and he wasn't going anywhere.

Sam finally settled back in his chair. Dean heard him sip his coffee for awhile. Then, a weight landed on the side of the bed, near his arm. He felt what must have been Sam's sock prod his arm. Which, _gross. _But then, Sam started up again. "Come on, man. I'm getting too maudlin here. You need to wake up and tell me to stop being such a girl, no 'chick flick' stuff, right?" He sipped a bit more. Dean heard the coffee cup hit the trash can. "So, what else can I tell you? Bobby says stop being a candy ass and get back in the game. I'm sure _that _will spur you to action." More prodding from the toes. "You want me to read to you, or something?" He laughed softly. "I read to you when you had that broken leg in sixth grade. That spirit in Arizona had tossed you pretty good, right into a tree. I remember thinking how bored you would be, laid up in bed while I got to go to school. I asked the librarian for a book that was full of adventure." He laughed softly. "What was it?"

Dean remembered. _Swiss Family Robinson. _Sam would come running in from school, all 'Dean? Dean, you okay? You hungry? Want me to read?' Then, he'd run to the kitchen, make him a snack, jump up on the bed, jarring his leg as he bounced around, getting situated. Dean had faked annoyance, 'Sam, Jesus, settle down. You're gonna re-break m'damn leg…' But, really, he'd thought the book was pretty good. And, he remembered how Sam had tended to him, how he _always _hovered around when Dean was hurt or sick, which Dad never really did. Dad would check in, make sure he was okay, but Sam was the one who took care of him. He'd been all enthusiasm and running around to find something Dean would like, something that would make him less bored, take his mind off whatever what ailing him. It had been nice. Like they were in their own cocoon, whether they were in the car, ratty motel, trailer, or whatever.

Those couple of weeks with the broken leg, they'd lived vicariously through the shipwrecked family who learned how to fight pirates and train animals for riding and racing. What should have been awful – sitting inside, no training, no anything - had actually been okay. Because of Sam. At the time, it had just been who they were, what they did. When one of them was down, the other one stuck around, tried to make the boredom better, tried to distract and entertain until they were on equal footing again. That's what Sam was doing now. What they hadn't been doing for each other for the last couple of years. They'd been so busy fighting everything, including each other, and they'd lost what made them, _them._

And, that was on Dean as much as Sam. Sam had done the lying, the trusting of Ruby, the blood drinking. But, Dean was the one who made the demon deal. He was the one who told Sam to just let him alone, leave him to his deal, learn to live without him. Sam had refused, tried to find a way out, tried to keep some kind of connection with Dean, but Dean had known what was coming, and he'd pulled away. Pushed Sam away, really. And, then he'd died, and Sam had been completely un-tethered, with only that skank Ruby to connect with.

When Dean had come back from hell, he'd been pretty messed up himself. Scared all the time. Wondering if hell would find a way to take him back. Castiel threatening that very thing, Alistair showing up. Too much had come at him, too fast. Sam's distance was kind of the least of his concerns, at the time. In fact, the distance had meant he didn't have to talk about any of that crap with Sam. He'd been relieved, to tell the truth. It had come back to bite him on the ass, of course. Because now, all Dean wanted was to have Sam _with _him again. Really with him, not just riding along side him in the car, but _connected. _So, here he was, reduced to faking unconsciousness to hear Sam's real thoughts on anything important.

Sam settled in his chair again, Dean heard the creak of vinyl and felt Sam's gigantic feet press into the side of the bed. "Well, anyway, I don't have anything to read. Probably, you'd just appreciate some peace and quiet, hmm?"

_No, dumb ass, I want you to keep talking. Please. _

After a couple of minutes, Sam did. "You know, I wish we had a do-over. There's so much I would do differently…But, that's dumb, I know. No re-set buttons. Just gotta live with what's happened. But, it sucks, because there are a lot of things I didn't understand, at the time…Although, I don't think I could have changed the way I was with Dad." Sam was starting to sound tired. He laughed weakly. "He was just too controlling, and I was just too…didn't want to be controlled. Still don't. But, I see now what he was trying to do. I do think he wanted to protect us, in his weird way. Cause, you know, if he really wanted to protect us? Hello? No hunting of evil creatures all our lives? Duh, Dad. But, if he hadn't taught us all the crap he did, made us so vigilant and _aware _of all this evil shit, I would have been doomed just like Ava and Jake and all the rest. I mean, I still am sort of doomed, but, at least, if you help me, maybe I can fix some of it before I go down?" There was a long pause, Sam settled in again. Let out a long sigh. "Cause, that would be nice, right? To get a chance to end this hellstorm I started? Just, you gotta wake up for that to happen. So, anytime you're ready, Dean?" A few moments went by, Sam prodded him with his foot again. "Come on, you know you want to get back to the apocalypse…It's such good times…par-tay."

Dean smirked. He felt his face do it, he hoped Sam had missed it. But, nope. He was on his feet and _looming._ "Dean? Hey, come on, open your eyes, man."

_Okay, the jig is up. _Dean opened his eyes. Sam was looking at him with that _Sammy _look, the open smile, the happiness that he was back, the 'Hey, Dean, you made it!" expression that Dean had seen so often . And not at all for the last couple of years. Then, it just took a couple moments, and he saw Sam shutting it down. His smile faded, and he actually took a step back from the bed. Dean had just enough meds in his system, and had been undone enough by Sam's monologue, that he couldn't stop himself. "Don't do that, Sam."

Sam straightened completely, backed away another step. "Sorry. What am I doing?"

Dean let out a sound of exasperation. "I want _my_ Sammy. Just, you can't be all…" The embarrassment caught up just a moment too late.

"Dean, are you okay? Do you know where you are?"

Made sense that Sam thought he was delusional. _I want my Sammy? Jesus. _Dean made a little show of looking disoriented. "Is there water?"

Sam looked around, brought him the cup with the straw. "Here. Just, sip slow. How you feeling?"

_Kind of feeling like I want a do-over, too, Sam._ "Fine. I'm fine. What's the damage?"

Sam took the cup back, sat back in his chair.

Dean felt like he was too far away. _Man, I woke up needy…_

"Bullet missed anything major. They cleaned it, sewed it up. I think a few days and you'll be mobile."

Dean took that in. Waited for Sam to ask when he wanted to go. Instead, Dean tried to look worn out. He sighed long and loud. "Just want to rest, you know? Feels like this one took a lot out of me." _That may have been a little thick, Dean._

Sam didn't question him, though. He nodded. "Probably cumulative. There's been a lot going on, lately."

A look passed between them, remembering all that had happened in the last few months. Dean looked up at the ceiling. This was going to be a reach. He knew it. Sam would know it for what it was, and that gave Dean pause. But, it's what he wanted, so, damn it, it's what he was going to ask for. He sucked in a deep breath, was a bit startled to realize he was _nervous. Oh, don't pussy out, Dean. Just ask. _Still, he cleared his throat, grabbed some of his blanket in his hand, fidgeted. "Uh, maybe, you could find a book or something?"

Sam looked blank for a second. Then he got it. He smiled, looked down at the floor. "A book, huh? You mean, you want me to read to you?"

Dean backed up. "No, no, not if you don't want to, just, you know, daytime t.v. is pretty sucky. Nevermind, just, thought it might be a way to pass the time. You don't have to."

Sam stood up, came closer to the bed. His smile was genuine and warm. He put his hand on the bed, just short of touching Dean's arm. "I don't mind. In fact, I'd kind of like to. Give me 20 minutes to hit the library. Want anything else? Are you hungry? Maybe some car magazines or something? Oh, I know, a Slurpee?" He turned, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. Turned his expressive, hopeful eyes to Dean. "What can I get you?"

Dean couldn't help it. He smiled big. "All of the above, bitch. And something with melted cheese. I haven't eaten since yesterday."

Sam nodded. "You got it. Back in a bit." He watched Dean for one more moment, nodded, kept his smile as he went out the door.

Dean shifted, felt the pull in his side. And, in a way that was so very _Winchester_, found himself grateful for that douchebag jock who'd shot him in a fit of drunken temper. It had gotten him one notch closer to Sam. And right now, with the shitstorm they were facing? That was worth everything.

The End


End file.
